


No Boxes Allowed

by Jetainia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Fluff, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 10:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19765897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetainia/pseuds/Jetainia
Summary: There were no boxes in A. Z. Fell and Co, metaphorical or otherwise.





	No Boxes Allowed

Crowley had always liked fashion and looking good. It separated him from the demons that lived in Hell and made the humans accept him more easily—sunglasses were a brilliant invention that made the humans accept him without the need for any demonic influence. Crowley enjoyed following the trends that humans created (with or without his influence).

He had thought that the desire to allot each human a place in the world would be the same as many other small inconveniences he caused to the humans. He _hadn’t_ thought that he would be caught up in the boxes humans made to stuff each other into. He hissed quietly as yet another human decided he dressed too much like a flash bastard to _be_ a flash bastard and was instead trying to hide the things humans declared wrong.

Of course, Crowley _was_ trying to hide something humans declared wrong but that was more for his own aesthetic than a care for if his eyes unsettled some humans. He glared at the pavement beneath his feet as he walked along the streets of London. Without conscious direction, he started heading to Aziraphale’s bookshop. That was a place that didn’t accept metaphorical boxes—mainly because Aziraphale was not aware the humans had created them.

Almost as soon as the door decided it shouldn’t be locked and let him in, Crowley felt a bit better. It wasn’t the angelic presence permeating the bookshop—that still managed to put him slightly on edge even after millennia to get used to it. Nor was it the knowledge that no human would be coming in any time soon and even if they did, a disapproving angel would be quick to remove them from the premise.

It was the fact that the bookshop almost never changed and that while the angel in charge loved humans, he never paid attention to the trends that Crowley did and thus never cared if Crowley ignored a trend while there. Said angel was in the back room of the bookshop reading an original folio of Shakespeare’s with a cup of cocoa that had gone cold long ago sitting next to him.

Crowley flopped on the couch and took his sunglasses off before closing his eyes and relaxing. Aziraphale hadn’t even acknowledged his presence, but that was alright; the angel rarely acknowledged anything when reading a book. It was enough that he was there and more that he wasn’t expecting anything from the demon.

He woke with his head cushioned on a lap and a hand running through his hair. His vision—when he opened his eyes—was blocked by an open book which moved out of the way as he shifted. Aziraphale smiled down at him, his fingers never stopping their soothing movements.

“Hello, my dear,” he said.

Crowley groaned before rolling over so he faced the angel’s stomach and curled tighter, hugging Aziraphale. Aziraphale hummed and returned to his book as Crowley returned to sleep—an activity that did not fit the box of demon but that was okay; there were no boxes allowed in A. Z. Fell and Co.


End file.
